Always Kiss Me Goodnight
by alessoninfutility
Summary: Month's after the war with the Patriots is over, Charlie disappears from Willoughby in the middle of the night and Bass goes after her.
1. Chapter 1

"Charlotte," Bass whispered. He couldn't believe he had finally found her. For seven long months he had wandered from town to town searching for her: his emotions running as wild as an unbroken stallion. Depending on the day, he would either be so pissed at the fact that she had run away that he could barely see straight, "She ran off like a coward," he would sometimes mutter to himself, or he would feel such excruciating sadness at the loss of her that he would hit his knees, unable to move for long periods at a time, "God, just keep her safe," he would pray. If her intent had been to test the limits of his sanity, she was succeeding.

Yet, here she was less than 50 south of Willoughby in a little town nestled on the banks of the Guadalupe River. Gruene, TX was a beautiful little town: one of those odd anomalies occasionally stumbled upon in the post-blackout world they lived in. Odd because it seemed relatively untouched by the harsh world in which they all existed. Other than the lack of electricity, Bass guessed the town looked the same as it had 17 years before. Young people still floated the river to get some relief from the hot Texas sun. People milled about the streets greeting each other in that friendly way that was somehow unique to Texans. Hell, even The Grist Mill was still in operation. The soil was rich and fertile and the wild game was plentiful; therefore, the residents of Gruene were well-fed and appeared healthy. The most shocking indicator that it was 2029, and not 2012, was the security screening at the edge of town. Bass had been forced to check his weapons upon entering the town. While he was not happy about that requirement, he knew _she_ was behind those walls and if he had to parade naked through the streets, he would, nothing was going to stop him from getting to her.

He had only been in Gruene about a half an hour when he caught a glimpse of her. Her back was to him, so she hadn't seen him stumble in the street at the sight of her. She had her hair penned up and was wearing a dress, which he found odd. He had fought beside that woman for over a year and he had rarely seen her put her hair up, and he had never seen her in a dress. He guessed that it was this oppressive August heat that caused the change. She was picking out fresh fruits and vegetables from a booth at the farmers market, so Bass stayed back, watching her from afar and not wanting to cause a scene. This was Charlie after all, and she was just as likely to stab him as hug him, he had learned to proceed with caution; however, her time was running out. He had questions and she better have the answers. As she finished up her purchase at the farmer's market and turned to leave, Bass was finally able to have a good look at the woman who had haunted his dreams for the last several months, and what he saw sent him into a rage like he had never felt before.


	2. Chapter 2

_Seven months earlier_

Charlie sat on the edge of the bed, tears streaming down her face and a bucket by her feet._ Dear God, how did this happen_, she thought. It was a stupid thought, really. After all, she knew _how_ it had happened; she just wasn't ready to face the truth. She mentally did the math again. Eight weeks. Eight weeks. Eight weeks. It didn't matter how many times she counted back, she still came up with the same number. Eight weeks since her last cycle.

"Charlotte Matheson, you are about to be a mommy," she whispered quietly to herself – still with an air of disbelief.

Admitting the fact sent her brain into overload. _How will I tell my mother? Miles? Grandpa?_ she thought. She could already hear their questions:

"How could you be so careless?" – her mother.

"What were you thinking?" – her mother, before giving her a chance to answer the first question.

"What are you going to do?" – her Grandfather

"Who is the father?" – Miles, already reaching for his swords.

And that was the question that would cause the most trouble. Heads would roll (and with her family, that would be a literal event, not just some glib statement). She had some decisions to make, and she had to make them quickly. First things first, however, she had to get herself cleaned up, head downstairs, and pretend like all was well in the world. Otherwise, someone was going to come up looking for her and the questions would start before she was fully prepared to deal with them.

Charlie headed downstairs and realized that no one had brought in any fresh water yet that morning, so she grabbed a pitcher and headed out back to the water pump. Charlie was about 3 pumps into priming the old water pump when she felt strong arms slide around her waist and warm lips touch her neck.

The words "Good morning, beautiful," whispered into her ear sent a familiar thrill through her body.

She turned slightly, her arms grasping his, and brushed a warm kiss to his lips. "Good morning, Sebastian."

For just a brief moment Charlie thought about turning into his arms, burying her face in his chest, and confessing everything, but she couldn't. First, in spite of the fact that they had been intimate for several months, with no one in their group the wiser, she wasn't sure how he would take the news. Secondly, Miles would kill Bass when he found out. No questions asked. No chance for explanations. He would just cut him down like a dog. Lastly, she really didn't know what she meant to him. Bass frequently told her he wanted her and he needed her, but he had never said he loved her.

The truth was she had never uttered those words to him either. She had been too afraid. She was afraid of the possibility of silence following her declaration. She was afraid he would laugh at her and call her immature for not understanding that theirs was a purely sexual relationship. She was afraid that if she ever said the words, admitting out loud that she loved Sebastian Monroe, she would be lost forever. So, Charlie did was she had become so good at doing, she tucked it all away inside and remained silent.

It was at that moment that Charlie knew what she had to do. She would gather her supplies and leave Willoughby. She would tell no one where she was going; however, Texas had a rudimentary postal service running – something similar to the Old West's Pony Express, so she would send Rachel a letter when she was settled to let her mother know she was okay, she just needed some space.

For two days Charlie mentally plotted the how of her exodus. She examined pre-blackout Texas maps her Grandpa had kept in that old truck in the garage. After looking at the map a dozen times, she decided on Gruene. She knew she couldn't go very far since her body would be changing rapidly over the next few months, and sometimes the morning sickness weakened her to the point of being useless for hours at a time. She knew she couldn't go anywhere close to a big city; a woman alone wouldn't last 5 minutes in Dallas, Houston, or San Antonio. And, more importantly, she wanted at least the illusion of being close to her family and Bass. She knew they would look for her; she knew Bass would be pissed. She knew they wouldn't expect her to head southwest. So she figured she would be safe in Gruene – if it still existed; that was the trouble with trying to map out a plan post-blackout, most of the cities and towns on old maps had been wiped out years ago, and the only way you knew one way or the other was to show up there and see what was left.

Her last night in Willoughby, long after everyone had turned in for the night, she crept down the hall and tiptoed into Bass' room. After shutting the door she was forced to make more noise than she really wanted to. The last battle with the Patriots may have ended more than 10 months ago, but she knew better than to sneak up and surprise Sebastian Monroe. That was a sure way to get hurt.

Bass sat up in bed, sword in hand, eyes struggling to focus.

"Charlotte? Is that you?" Bass asked quietly, confusion showing in his voice. When he looked back on this memory, months later, he would realize that he should have known something was up at that moment. Rule number 1 in their relationship: never, ever, have sex in the house – unless you were ready to get caught.

"Yes, Bass, it's me." Charlie whispered in return. She quietly slipped out of her clothes and slid into the bed beside the man she would be leaving in a few short hours. Charlie knew that this would be the last time she felt the warmth of his embrace and the strength of his body, and she meant to make the most of it.

Bass sat up slightly and started to ask, "Charlie, what are you…", but he was never able to finish his question. Charlie silenced him with the crush of her lips against his.

Charlie ran her hands across the smooth expanse of Bass' chest and felt the strength of his legs against her own. Pajama's were a luxury that very few people had, and Bass wasn't wearing any; however, Charlie felt it was a pretty safe to assume that Bass' preference for sleeping nude had started long before the blackout.

It didn't take Bass long to realize that, for whatever reason, Charlie needed him at that moment, and he slipped his arms around her, pulled her into a deep embrace, and swiftly entered her willing body. A bed was a luxury they very seldom had in these encounters; however, Bass and Charlie both quickly realized that the bed springs on his bed were, quite loudly, announcing to the world that more than sleeping was going on in the third room to the left.

Bass chuckled deeply in his chest, stood up from the bed, and quickly arranged a pallet for them on the floor. As Charlie stood, Bass ran his eager hands over the body that he had come to know so well over the last several months. As he ran his hands down the curves of her body, something niggled in his brain, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Charlie could feel the hesitation in his touch as his brain tried to register what the change was in the body standing before him, and she knew she had to stop his exploration before he realized what the heaviness in her breasts and the small swell of her belly meant. After all, the man had not become the President of the Monroe Republic by being stupid – he would, given enough time, know exactly what the changes in her body meant.

"Tonight, I touch you," she whispered in his ear. They had played this game before and he knew exactly what her words meant. His hands immediately dropped to his sides and he replied, "So, if I remember correctly, I don't touch you until you beg me to. Which you will." he said, with the extreme confidence of someone who knew that she needed, no craved, his touch, and she wouldn't last long before begging him to caress her nimble body.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not." she replied.

Charlie pushed Bass back down into their makeshift pallet on the floor and claimed his lips with her own. Her hands wandered down his strong arms and muscular chest, beyond the smattering of hair below his navel, and through the hair at his groin to grasp him in her hand. Where her hands went her lips followed. She nipped at his neck, and placed featherlike kisses across his chest and stomach. By the time she reached her destination, Bass was shaking with the effort to lie still and not reach for her. Charlie positioned her mouth at the head of his cock and blew ever so gently across the tip. He jumped in her hand.

"Charlotte, please," Bass begged. A sly smile stretched across Charlie's lips before she opened her lips and took him into her mouth. Charlie moved her lips at a torturous pace up and down the length of him, occasionally taking her tongue and running it around the rim of his now throbbing cock. Charlie felt Bass' hand sneak into her hair to grab the back of her head. She immediately stopped all movement and gave him a reproachful look with her eyes. He sighed, resigned to her game, and released her head. Charlie continued to torment him for several more minutes before making her way back up his body and planting a passionate kiss on his lips. As their tongues danced, Charlie sat up slightly and positioned her body over his. With her hand she positioned him at her entranced and slid downward at and excruciating slow pace.

As Charlie moved over Bass, she felt her emotions begin to unravel and a single tear slid down her cheek. Bass, so in tune with her movements, noticed the change in her body language and reached up to brush the tear away from her cheek with a look of confusion on his face.

"Charlotte?" Bass began, but she spoke as if he hadn't uttered the question. "Sebastian, please touch me," she begged. Bass didn't waste another moment. He reached up, cupped her face, and brought her lips down into a soul searing kiss. Their lovemaking quickly changed after that from a slow sensuous coupling into something else entirely. Bass quickly flipped Charlie onto her back and drove into her with all of the desperation he felt at the sight of that tear rolling down her cheek. Over and over he pounded into her, his pace furious. Charlie could feel her body preparing to shatter.

"Sebastian, come with me, please," she panted. "Yes," he said, as he drove into her one last time, her body quivering around him as he emptied himself deep within her.

Bass lay beside her, emotionally and physically exhausted. He had given her everything he had, and yet he could feel that something wasn't right.

"Charlotte, are you ok..?" he began, but Charlie shushed him with a gentle finger to his lips. "I want to sleep surrounded by your arms for a while before the others awaken," she said, and even though every instinct in his body demanded he press her for answers, he let her have her way and lay down beside her, holding her gently in his arms.

Sometime, just before dawn, Charlie slipped out of the house and headed toward Gruene. She wept the entire way.


	3. Chapter 3

The people of Gruene came to know Charlie as Mrs. Charlotte Bastian (she couldn't resist taking a part of Bass's name as her own). They only knew that Charlotte was a young widow whose husband had been robbed and beaten to death several months earlier. Charlie knew she had to have a reputable background to have any chance at landing the respectable job she and her unborn child needed.

Unknown to the people of Gruene, Mrs. Bastian, their new elementary teacher, had fought side by side with Sebastian Monroe, the ruthless former President of the Monroe Republic. Would she have been welcomed into their community if they had known the child nestled under her heart was, in fact, that same man's child? They had no idea that her Uncle was General Miles Matheson, the Butcher of Baltimore. They were also completely unaware that Charlotte's parents were the reason they all lit candles instead of flipping on light switches. It seemed that just about every catastrophic event in the last 17 years could be tied to people directly related to Charlie. Wherever they went, trouble just naturally followed. Her Grandpa used to joke that trouble followed Matheson's like a calf followed its mama. For the sake of her child, Charlie was hoping that that particular family trait had run its course.

So, in order to play her part Charlotte Bastian wore modest dresses, her hair in a neat bun, and taught young children their alphabet and how to read. She was a far cry from Charlie Matheson, who wore her hair loose around her face, skin tight jeans and tank tops, and could cut a man down, step over his dead body, and never look back. In short, Mrs. Charlotte Bastian was as far removed from Charlie Matheson as Mayberry was from New York.

Charlie was building a good, stable, and respectable life in Gruene; however, she was lonely. Experience had taught her that she couldn't trust every person she met, so she had few friends. She spent much of her time alone, trying desperately to learn how to make baby blankets and crochet booties. She loved her baby and knew he or she would need these things when he got here, but the truth was, Charlie was a fighter, and she lacked most of the skills many women learned at their mother's feet. As a result, most of her attempts looked like she had tasked her elementary students with her sewing.

At the heart of her problem was the fact that she missed Bass. She missed her Mom. She missed Bass. She missed Miles. She missed Bass. She missed her Grandpa. She missed Bass. She had lost count of the number of times she had sat straight up in bed in the middle of the night, his name on her lips. But, she had made her bed and now she had to lay in it. Besides, even if she was physically able to make the trip back to Willoughby, she wasn't, she doubted Bass would have stayed there after she left anyway. In her pregnancy addled brain, she had pictured Bass packing up his bag and heading West toward California. It seemed logical that he would go there since, after they had defeated the Patriots, California had been the last place his grown son Connor had mentioned before he struck off on his own with that woman he met in New Vegas.

In spite of her obviously expanding belly, the single men of Gruene seemed to see her more as the available woman she was than another man's widow. It didn't help matters that she was stunningly beautiful with the glow of pregnancy and the healthy tan provided by the hot Texas sun. She frequently heard things like "let me take care of you" and "a beautiful woman like you shouldn't be all alone." It also wasn't uncommon for her to come home and find beautiful bouquets of flowers on her little porch. Texas men sure knew how to woo a lady, and she was flattered; but she gently rebuffed each of them, maintaining that her heart belonged to her late husband and she just wasn't ready to remarry, but she knew those excuses wouldn't hold them off forever and she would probably end up moving on after her child was born.

The sound of a child's voice repeating, "Mrs. Bastian. Mrs. Bastian." over and over again broke Charlie out of her internal musings.

"Yes, Robert," Charlie replied, "What do you need?"

"Are you okay, Mrs. Bastian? You looked so sad, I thought you would cry," Robert replied. "I am a little early today, but it is almost time for school to start."

Charlie smiled down at the little boy standing beside her desk. "I am fine, Robert. Thank you for asking," she said. "Why don't you help me get ready for the day?"

So, like most days, Charlie buried her sadness and poured her heart into the children in her classroom. She would miss her students most of all, when the time came to leave.

Charlie wrapped up her school day and headed into the heart of Gruene. She didn't really feel like making the trip. She had felt the oddest clinching in her stomach today and she really just wanted to go home, put her feet up, and rest for a while; however, she was running low on fruits and vegetables and needed to stop by the Farmer's Market. The town doctor had warned her that her baby could come at any time and she wanted to be as prepared as possible. The Matheson's had kept a garden in Willougby, but by the time she had arrived in Gruene, secured the position as their new teacher, and found a small house to call home, the Texas planting season had passed. She relied on the Farmer's Market in town to provide her with fruits and vegetables, currently her diet staples. She was thankful that she still had a bit of dried venison to add protein to her diet because she was just too big and bulky to hunt at present. Seriously, she couldn't sneak up on an animal if she tried and bending over to set traps was not going to happen any time soon. Last week, the mother of one of her student's had gifted Charlie with a small pork roast and some bacon as a thank you for helping with the child's reading. At the time, it seemed like the best gift Charlie had ever received.

While Mr. Davis bagged up Charlie's purchases, she had the strangest sensation of being watched. A tingling, familiar awareness that she hadn't experienced in quite some time crept up her spine. Charlie tried desperately to calm her nerves and slow her racing heart. Surely she was overreacting. Perhaps this sudden apprehension was just some other crazy side effect of pregnancy – like the recent desire to compulsively clean her house or count and refold the cloth diapers she had collected over the last few months over and over again. So, Charlie paid Mr. Davis for her purchases and turned to head back toward house. Only she hadn't taken two steps when she heard an all too familiar voice bellow her name.


	4. Chapter 4

"CHARLOTTE!" Bass roared from across the street. Charlie turned and saw an extremely pissed off Sebastian Monroe charging (there was really no other word for it) across the lane, and heading straight for her. She was stunned; not only at the fact that Bass was here, in Gruene, but also at the fact that he had yelled at all. Sebastian Monroe was known for his icy, stoic, and unnerving composure. She had frequently heard him referred to as being "as cold as a snake" and she had personally witnessed him turn more than one Patriot captive into a stammering idiot with just a look from those ice blue eyes. None of it was true, of course. In fact, Bass seemed to feel more than most people did; however, after a lifetime of disappointment and grief, he had simply learned to hide behind the cold and sarcastic façade he presented to the world. The fact that he had actually yelled at her did not bode well for this encounter. Charlie's face went white and her newly purchased fruits and vegetables rolled around her feet. Funny, she didn't remember dropping her bag, but she guessed she had.

"Um, Mrs. Bastian, is there a problem?" a nervous Mr. Davis asked. Charlie felt sorry for the poor man. It was obvious he felt honor bound to aid her if need be. It was also obvious that he wished he was on the moon and out of the line of sight of the lunatic making his way across the street. Charlie tried to paste a smile on her lips and assure Mr. Davis that everything was fine, but she knew he saw the panic in her eyes and the slight tremor in her hands.

By the time Charlotte turned from Mr. Davis, Bass had made it across the street and had grabbed her by the arm. The none too gentle grip on her upper arm made her realize that what he really wanted to do was shake some sense into her; however, she also knew that he was very aware of the belly protruding between them and that he would never hurt her.

"Charlotte, what the hell is going on here?" Bass practically hissed at her. His mind was frantic. He knew what he was seeing and yet his brain didn't believe it. He shook his head twice and looked her up and down. He slowly took in the new roundness in her face, the much larger breasts and obviously very pregnant stomach. His eyes moved lower to the round curves of her hips and the slightly swollen ankles. Charlie could feel his body pulsing with the force of his anger.

For a moment, the sound of Mr. Davis' voice caught Bass' attention. "Sir, I don't know who in the hell you are, but I need you to take your hand away from Mrs. Bastian," Mr. Davis said over the tops of his apples and oranges. At the use of her "married" name, Bass' head whipped from Mr. Davis to look at Charlie's reddening face.

"I'll tell you who the hell I am," Bass coldly offered. But, Charlie had finally found her voice.

"Sebastian. Bass, please, my house is just down the road. Can we please talk about this in private?" Charlie pleaded, but the look in Bass' eyes said he wasn't in any mood to be reasonable and he ignored her request: so much for the hope that her family's propensity for trouble had run its course.

"I am Sebastian Monroe, and that," pointing at Charlie's belly, "belongs to me."

Mr. Davis appeared appalled at that announcement and offered a weak, "but, I thought you were a widow?" toward Charlie.

Bass scoffed, "A black widow maybe. I lost count of the number of times she's tried to kill me."

Mr. Davis absorbed this statement with wide eyes and quickly removed himself from an encounter that, he suddenly realized, was none of his business.

Charlie, who had simply been in shock up to this point, was now pissed at his possessiveness and his new propensity for over sharing. For months she had thought of the child growing inside of her as hers alone, and here he was, less than five minutes in, laying claim to her baby as if he had been the one round and miserable for months. If that wasn't bad enough, it wouldn't be five minutes before everyone in town knew she was a liar and a fraud – Mr. Davis was a horrible gossip.

"Now, just a damn minute, I know you are angry and…"

"You think?" Bass sarcastically interjected before she could finish her sentence. Bass stilled and silently looked down her body another time.

"How could you Charlotte? Please tell me how you could do this to me?" Bass said, so quietly it was almost a whisper. "You knew. You knew what it did to me to learn that Emma and Miles had hidden Connor from me. You experienced firsthand the consequences of the madness that overtook me when I lost Shelly and our baby. Jesus, Charlotte, do you hate me that much? Is this your revenge for Danny and Ben? How many times do I have to say I'm sorry? What else do I have to do to prove to you that I am a changed man?" By now, Bass had released her arms and taken a few steps away from her, as if he couldn't bear to touch her. His eyes were wet with unshed tears.

Charlie thought briefly of that long ago night when she had awakened by a mid-night fire to discover that Bass had saved her from being horribly gang raped and possibly murdered. She remembered accusing him of being able to cry at a moment's notice to get what he wanted. She remembered throwing words like "monster" and "sociopath" at him. She guessed that, at the time, those words may have been true, or, at the very least, she had needed them to be true. However, the man standing before her, his heart in his eyes, was no longer General Monroe. He was just Bass, and she could physically feel his anguish.

Charlie didn't know what to say. By now they were drawing a crowd, but she just didn't have the energy to care. The truth was, she hadn't thought of any of the things he had mentioned the night she had walked away from him. She had only thought of herself, and not wanting to tell her mother and Miles that she was in love with Bass and they were having a baby. She had convinced herself that she was protecting him from Miles, but she knew, deep down in her heart, that if Miles was convinced she was happy – he would have been happy for them both. Dear God, what had she done?

Charlie reached out to grab Bass' arm, but he jerked away as if burnt by her touch.

"Bass, please, come with me. We can talk about this." Charlie pleaded, but Bass threw his hands in the air and turned and walked away in disgust.

Bass needed a drink. Scratch that. Bass needed a bottle.


	5. Chapter 5

Bass hadn't even made it back across the street when he caught a glimpse of Charlie in the reflection of a store window. She was trying to pick up her scattered fruits and vegetables and shove them back into her bag. It was hard to believe that the once nimble Charlie Matheson was the woman in the reflection. Charlie had tried bending this way and that before finally giving up and squatting, knees spread, and grabbing an orange. She would pause every few seconds to wipe away the tears that were streaming down her face.

"Shit," Bass muttered to himself, "God damn it. Son of a bitch." He wanted desperately to keep walking, to find the nearest bar and drink himself into oblivion, but he couldn't. Before he fully realized what he was doing, he had spun around and was headed back to Charlie.

When he reached her, he didn't say a word. Bass simply grabbed her by the elbow, much more gently this time, and pulled her to her feet.

"Leave them," he said.

"But," Charlie began.

"No buts," he countered, but then he stopped at an old memory of Shelly's voracious appetite during her pregnancy, "Unless you are hungry, no buts. Are you hungry, Charlotte?"

Charlie wanted to sarcastically point to her stomach and tell him that she had been in a constant state of hungry for six months. But the truth was, right at that moment, her mouth felt as if it were full of sawdust, and she could not have eaten a bite if she tried.

She quietly shook her head no, and he tilted his head in acknowledgment. Bass started to take a step down the street, dragging Charlie behind him when he remembered that he had no idea where she lived.

"Lead the way, and I'll take you home."

"And we'll talk?" Charlie asked. She finally understood that the reason they were in the mess they were in was because of the fact that their communication level sucked. Well, that wasn't completely true; their non-verbal communication was a force to be reckoned with. On many occasions the tilt of the head or a look in the eye had been the difference between life and death for one or both of them. Their problem was that they never actually talked about anything. When together, whether in battle or the bedroom, their bodies were perfectly in sync; however, outside of those two scenarios, fear, baggage, and stubbornness had kept them from truly knowing each other.

A terse nod was all she got in response. Obviously they had a long way to go.

Charlie had only taken one step toward her house when she felt a contraction that left her gasping for breath and a flow of water down her leg. She doubled over, hands clasped at her middle.

"Bass," she panted, "I think I am in labor."

Bass froze in his tracks, his mind racing. His first thought was of Shelly, hemorrhaging to death in front of his eyes, and he was terrified. His second thought was that he had brought this on. He had yelled at her, frightened her, and then refused to listen to anything she had to say in her defense. God, if he lost Charlie, he would finish what he had started in that cemetery all those years ago. No one would stop him from swallowing a bullet this time.

As the pain from that first hard contraction lessened, Charlie caught a glimpse of Bass' face and seemed to know what was going on in his head without him uttering a word.

"No, Bass," she said, grabbing him by the face and looking directly into his eyes, "this isn't premature labor. The Dr. said the baby could come any day, and I have felt off since this morning. This isn't your fault. Well, the fact that I am pregnant is your fault, but not this. Please, snap out of it. I need you."

At those words, Bass snapped to attention and asked, "Where do we need to go?"

"If you take a left at the next street, my house is the fourth one on the right. I have a room ready for delivery."

This was the thing that Bass feared the most. The blackout had set the medical profession back 100 years. Doctors had limited access to medications and hospitals were rendered relatively useless without their fancy equipment and high tech instruments; therefore, most women gave birth in their homes. Because of the limited amount of accessible doctors and medications, the mortality rate for mothers and infants was now almost what it had been in 1865.

"Can you walk or do I need to carry you?" Bass asked.

Charlie looked down at her huge belly and rolled her eyes, "Yes, I can walk."

Charlie and Bass made their way through Gruene and into the front door before the next contraction hit. Somehow, Charlie managed to breathe through it and Bass managed to not completely loose his shit this time.

"It took us about six or seven minutes to walk here, right?" Charlie asked when the contraction finally abated. Bass slowly shook his head in the affirmative and Charlie breathed a sigh of relief. "Good, we should still have quite a bit of time before the baby gets here."

As Charlie entered her bedroom to change and clean herself up a little, Bass took a moment to take in his surroundings. Charlie's house was a small three bedroom wood frame house. It was as meticulously kept and the only word Bass could use to describe it was, simple. There was a kitchen to the left and small living area to the right. Down the hallway Bass passed a bathroom and a closed door to his right. He nudged the door open and found a nursery. He had no idea where Charlie had come across the baby bed and small dresser, but it was obvious that, while the room was sparse, everything in it had been arranged with love. He picked up one of the blankets laid over the cribs edge and it was all he could do not to laugh out loud. _What the hell happened to this thing? _Bass wondered, but then he looked more closely. He would recognize those crooked stitches anywhere. In fact, he had several scars that looked exactly like them. Charlie was fierce in battle, but she couldn't sew worth a shit.

Bass closed the door to the nursery and made his way down the hall. He stopped outside of the door that Charlie had walked into just moments before, and he noticed that it was cracked slightly. He pushed the door open just a bit more; _I just want to make sure she is okay,_ he told was completely unprepared for what he found inside.

Charlie had stripped out of the wet and dirty dress she had been wearing that day and had taken her hair down from the loose bun she wore as Mrs. Charlotte Bastian. She had obviously been about to put on the thin cotton gown she had laid on the bed, but she paused at Bass' sharp intake of breath.

"Damn it Bass!" Charlie said, so startled she felt as though she might jump out of her skin. Charlie tried to cover herself. The only problem with that was there was just too much of her to cover.

"Please, Charlotte, you're beautiful; let me look at you," Bass said quietly as he walked fully into the room.

Charlie didn't feel beautiful; she felt like a cow. But, after robbing him of her slow transformation of her body from warrior to mommy over the last few months she felt like she owed him this one small request.

Bass approached her cautiously; it was as if he was afraid she would change her mind and order him out of the room.

Bass whispered, "May I touch…?" He reached out his hand before giving her a chance to say no.

Charlie took Bass' hand and gently placed it on her taunt stomach. He moved his hand across Charlie's stomach and a broad smile stretched across his face. His eyes lit up and Charlie saw a glint of possessiveness flash in his eyes.

"Mine." He stated, and Charlie wasn't sure if he was talking about her or their unborn child.

As Bass continued his exploration of her stomach, Charlie couldn't help but notice that each time he moved his hand it inched closer and closer to her full breasts. It seemed that he was intent on reacquainting himself with as much of her body as she would allow. Not that she minded. It had been months since he had touched her and, even though she wasn't in any state to act on the warm sensations running through her body, she was enjoying the feeling just the same.

Just as Bass had reached up to test the weight of her breast in his hand he felt her stomach tighten as another contraction took hold of her body.

"Just breathe, Charlotte. It will be over in a minute." Bass crooned into her ear, while rubbing her back. Charlie did her best to breathe through it but this one was longer and much more intense than the others.

When the pain had passed, Bass slipped the gown over Charlie's head and asked her, commanded her was more like it, to lie down.

"For the last time, I am not lying down," Charlie hissed at him. "I need to walk and I need you to stop being such an ass."

_Seven Hours later_

"You're a bastard Sebastian Monroe," Charlie said between clenched teeth. She was beginning to think there wasn't going to be an end to the pain. The contractions had been coming one on top of the other for the last half hour or so – it felt like an eternity. She needed to take her frustration and pain out on someone, and Bass was the only one available, so he was her target.

"Now Charlie, I'm here to help you," Bass said in his most soothing voice. He was tired, and Charlie was exhausted; but, they were getting close to the end.

"I feel like I need to push," Charlie said with more energy than she thought she had.

Bass lifted the sheet thrown across Charlie's knees to take a look, like he knew what the hell he was looking for - he didn't; although, this time what he saw was unmistakable.

"Charlotte, I see the baby's head," Bass said, surprisingly calm. "It is time to push, whenever you are ready."

As Charlie felt the next contraction start she put her chin to her chest and pushed as hard as she could while Bass counted ten.

"Again," Bass demanded, barely giving her a chance to catch her breath. "Hold your knees back. Yes, that's it," he encouraged. "We're almost there," Bass said. "A couple more pushes and you will get to see our baby. Please Charlie, I know you're tired, but you can do this."

Charlie did as he asked, and three excruciating but productive pushes later, her child slipped into the waiting arms of its father. A heartbeat later, the sweetest sound either of them had ever heard filled the silence – their babies cry.

"Bass, is it a boy or a girl?" Charlie asked impatiently, "Does it look ok?"

Bass gently wrapped his baby in the ugliest blanket he had ever seen and stepped around the bed.

"It's a girl, Charlie. We have a daughter, and she's perfect," Bass said, as he handed Charlie the squalling bundle. "What should we name her?" Bass asked, as Charlie opened the blanket to count fingers and toes.

"I've had a name picked out for a while," said Charlie, looking Bass straight in the eye. "Meet, Angela Claire Monroe."

Bass sat on the side of the bed, slipped his arm around Charlie, and gazed at his little girl now snuggling against her mother's breast, tears were in his eyes. "My sister's would be thrilled," he said huskily, emotion causing a rasp in his voice.

They sat like that for a while, quietly in awe of their tiny miracle, until Bass felt he needed to get Charlie and the bed cleaned up so she could rest properly. Charlie was so fascinated by the new life they had created that she barely noticed Bass cleaning away the realities of childbirth. He wiped down Charlie's sweat covered face and body, placed his sleeping angel in her cradle by the bed, and helped Charlie change into a clean gown; he somehow changed the bed without needing Charlie to get up.

"I'll go sleep on the couch," Bass whispered into Charlie's ear as she drifted off to sleep. "Just call out if you need anything."

"No, please stay," Charlie said quietly, reaching out for his hand as she moved closer to the edge of the bed to make room for him.

Bass wasn't going to argue. He was both mentally and physically exhausted, so he quietly undressed and climbed into the bed beside her. Tomorrow the silent truce of this day would be over, and they would have to face all of the anger and questions her disappearance had caused, but he was just too tired to care at the moment. So, for the first time in months, Bass slid over to Charlie's side and closed his eyes for some much needed rest. He had just closed his eyes when his daughter let out a loud cry. _Well, _he thought dryly, _I guess there really is no rest for the wicked._


	6. Chapter 6

Neither Charlie nor Bass could remember a time when they were as tired, worn down, and utterly defeated as they were after that first full night of parenthood. It seemed impossible that the two people who had fought tirelessly to defeat the Patriot army would be overpowered by seven pound screaming infant, but they were.

"There's a chicken coop out back," Charlie said sleepily, as she settled little Angie at her breast. "If you're hungry, go gather some eggs and light a fire in the fire pit." Using the wood burning stove located in the kitchen was not an option during the Texas summer. Charlie was fortunate that massive oak trees provided shade for her little house throughout the day; otherwise, being inside the closed up house would have been unbearable, as it was, she kept most of the screened windows and doors open in the hopes of catching a breeze from the river.

Bass yawned and nodded his head in agreement. He was hungry, and more importantly, he really needed to take a piss. That realization brought on another thought.

"Charlie, do you need me to help you up so you can use the bathroom?" Bass asked sheepishly. He found it odd that he felt embarrassed by the question. He had possessed the woman in front of him in every way imaginable. He had suckled at the breasts currently providing nourishment to their daughter. He could still remember how she tasted when his head was buried between her legs. The thought of her body as he slid into her wet folds was a memory that had kept him hard and awake on more than one occasion. Now, he had watched her body as it had worked to bring his sweet Angel into the world. In spite of all of this, he was uncomfortable asking her about the most basic of human needs. It reminded him of how much their relationship lacked, and he didn't like it.

"I will go when you get back," Charlie said, not quite meeting his eyes. Apparently, she didn't want to discuss the call of nature any more than he did.

Bass turned and left the room, intent on getting them something to eat and drink, while Charlotte continued to play with the tiny fingers grasping at her breast.

"My precious," she whispered to her daughter. "Your Daddy and I need to have a little talk."

Soon Angela's little head rolled back slightly and a little drop of milk dribbled onto her chin, she was finally asleep. Charlie laid her in her cradle and gingerly took a step toward the door. She was sore, but it was manageable. She vaguely remembered reading something about Chinese women giving birth in the middle of rice patties, strapping their newborns to their chests, and continuing to work. Charlie felt that was either a gross exaggeration or complete horse shit.

She met Bass as he was coming back in the back door. He had a plate of eggs in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He had clearly been coming to bring her breakfast in bed.

Bass set the eggs and water on a small table beside the sofa. "Are you okay? Is Angie okay?" he asked, looking worried.

"I'm fine. She's fine and finally sleeping." Charlie said patiently. "Bass, women have been having babies for centuries. It is perfectly normal for me to be up and about," an uncomfortable silence followed her statement. _Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. _Charlie thought to herself. _How could I forget that his wife and child died in childbirth?_

"Charl…" Bass began.

"Sebas…" Charlie said at the same moment.

"Yes," Bass prodded, when Charlie didn't continue speaking.

"Are you ready to hear me out?" she asked, a bit of defensiveness in her tone.

"That depends, are you going to be honest with me or feed me a line of shit?" Bass countered, some of his anger from the previous day returning.

"I'll be honest if you are," she said, he voice rising just a bit.

"Charlie," Bass said, his eyes suddenly cold, "you forget that I am the only one who has never lied to you."

Charlie's stomach decided that this was the perfect moment to remind her that she hadn't eaten anything since lunch the day before.

Bass pointed to the plate of eggs on the table, "Eat, and then we'll talk."

After they had each had their breakfast and cleaned up the mess, they both knew that they were out of excuses and neither had a valid reason to delay the inevitable conversation that lay before them.

"Do you want to know how I found you?" Bass asked, running a hand through his unruly curls, and breaking the awkward silence that had permeated the room. He continued without giving her a chance to respond, "That week, after you left and I realized that that last night was your goodbye and you weren't coming back, Rachel, Miles, and I took off after you. I was so fucking angry with you for leaving without saying a word, but Miles and Rachel weren't surprised at all by your sudden desire to take off for God knows where. They kept reminding me that you had done this before, and you would come back if and when you felt like it. But, I knew something they didn't, didn't I? I knew about us, and I couldn't come up with one damn reason why you would just take off and run like a damn coward. Eventually, Rachel and Miles decided to go back to Willoughby and wait you out there. But I didn't. I kept searching. Looking for you in every town, every bar and dive I came to. I would make my way back to Willoughby every month or two to see if you had come back, or if Rachel or Miles had heard from you. By the time I came back into town the second time, I think they had figured out that my searching was caused by something more than a friend looking for a friend, but they kept their damned mouths shut. My third trip back to Willoughby was just three days ago. I was making my way up the porch stairs when I overheard an argument between your Mom and Miles. Miles was pissed.

"Damn it, Rachel, we are going to tell Bass the next time he comes into town. It's fucking ridiculous to keep letting him ride all over Texas looking for her when we know where she is," I heard Miles say through the front door. But Rachel shot him down; I think she was enjoying my misery a little too much. "We aren't saying anything. If Charlie wanted him to know she was in Gruene, she would have written to him herself. They obviously had some kind of falling out, which is why she left in the first place. You and I had both noticed the looks and sly touches between them. I don't know who they thought they were fooling, but it certainly wasn't us. After all, how do you deceive two people who are pros at screwing around behind people's back?"

Charlie interrupted at this, "Oh my God, they knew about us the whole time? Wait, Uncle Miles and Mom?" Charlie was stunned that the two people she had been the most afraid to tell about her and Bass had known all along. Just about every reason she had had for leaving hadn't even been real, she had just convinced herself they were. Bass gave her a look that said, _shut the hell up and let me finish._

"I didn't even go into the house that night," he continued, as if she hadn't interrupted him. "Why would I need to? Rachel had inadvertently given me all of the information I needed. I climbed back onto Pandora's back and rode straight here. And, now that I've found you, I want some answers. Why did you run away Charlotte, when you knew the thing I wanted most was a family? You had to have known you were pregnant when you took off." Bass concluded, husky emotion returning to his voice.

By the time Bass stopped talking, tears were streaming down Charlie's face.

"Sebastian, I'm so sorry. When I figured out I was pregnant, I was afraid. I was afraid of telling Rachel and Miles. I thought Mom would hate me and accuse me of forgetting Dad and Danny. I convinced myself that Mom and Grandpa would never forgive me and that Miles would kill you for touching his niece. It all sounds so damn stupid now; but, at the time I had convinced myself it was all true. I am ashamed to admit that I really didn't stop and consider how you would feel. I only thought of myself. But, please, please believe me when I tell you that I didn't leave because I hate you or as revenge for Danny and Dad. I don't hate you; I haven't for a very long time. I love you. What happened to Danny and Dad wasn't your intent, I have known that since the ride to Willoughby from New Vegas. I…" Charlie trailed off as she noticed that Bass had gone white and was staring at her intently.

"What did you just say Charlotte?" Bass whispered.

Charlie felt the blood drain from her face as she realized what she had just revealed. She looked down and whispered quietly, "I love you Sebastian."

Before she knew what was happening Bass had grabbed her up into his strong embrace and buried his face in her hair. As she pushed back slightly and looked up into his startling blue eyes she saw the truth there in his gaze.

"Jesus, Charlotte. I love you. I have for what seems like an eternity," and he crushed her lips under his.

_Six Weeks Later_

Bass, Charlie, and their beautiful blonde haired blue eyed little girl were finally going home to Willoughby. The previous six weeks had been anything but easy, as Bass and Charlie learned to be parents and tried to learn each other, problems were bound to happen. The words I love you may have broken the dam, but their relationship still needed work, and they were trying. Some days went smoothly; however, there were several days when she would threaten to kill him and he would storm out of the house and head down to the bar for a much needed drink. But, Bass always came home before the end of the day, and one of them would finally admit they were in the wrong and sorry.

Most days, they spent walking along side the river or going through the same rigorous training they had when they had been fighting the Patriots, only this time their daughter slept in a cradle under a shade tree while her parents worked out their aggression. The training had two purposes. One, it allowed Charlie the physical exercise she needed to work off her baby weight and reclaim the sleek body she had once known. Two, it allowed both Charlie and Bass the opportunity to work off some of the frustration they had been feeling over the last several weeks.

They had both agreed that her body needed time to heal before she would be ready for intimacy. So, for the last few weeks, they had been reduced to making out like a couple of teenagers. As soon as Angela went down for the night, they were all over each other. Their kisses had become more and more frantic over the last week. Their hands roamed each other's bodies committing every inch of skin to memory. On more than one occasion Charlie had dropped to her knees to take Bass into her mouth, but he would stop her saying that when he came it would be deep inside her and after she had been satisfied to the point of exhaustion. This just made Charlie want him more.

Angela was six weeks old and they would be leaving for Willoughby the following morning. Charlie had written to Rachel a few weeks before to let her and Miles know that she would be coming home. She didn't mention Bass or Angela in that letter, she wanted to see Rachel's face when she realized her granddaughter belonged to Sebastian Monroe (sometimes Charlie was still a little peevish where her mother was concerned).

That night, Charlie had Bass draw a hot bath after she put Angela down for the night. She slipped into the hot water and scrubbed her skin and hair with a bar of milk and honey soap, and thought about the night to come. God she was ready to feel Bass deep inside her. The mere thought of his body moving in her caused her body to react and a pool of wetness to form between her legs.

Bass had already climbed into the bed when she walked into the room, nothing but a towel covering her still damp body. He slid up to one elbow and watched her as she brushed out her long hair and then made her way toward the bed. He sucked in his breath when her towel hit the floor.

"Charlotte, are you sure?" he asked, as she crawled across the bed and straddled him.

She grabbed his hand and slowly moved it between her legs. "What do you think?" she asked. Bass groaned at how wet and ready she was. After that, no more words were needed for a while.

Bass lifted Charlie off of his waist and flipped her around to her back. As he moved he leaned forward and claimed her mouth with his own. His hands roamed her body while he traced the outline of her lips with his tongue. As the kiss deepened and their tongues mated, Bass gently squeezed her aching breast with his hand. Charlie arched her back off the bed her body silently telling him she wanted more.

As Bass started making his way down Charlie's body her skin tingled with anticipation. She ran her fingers through his curls as he nipped at the sensitive place just above her collar bone with his teeth. Bass continued his exploration south, his lips following the trail of his hands across her collarbone and down toward her breasts. Bass sat up slightly, looking at his hands moved across her full breasts. He had thought watching her feed Angela over the last few weeks would change how he felt about her breasts, that he would see them as more functional than erotic, but he was dead wrong. If anything, he found her more appealing than he ever had. He leaned forward and blew gently on her nipple, it immediately tightened in response and a tiny drop of milk rolled down the curve of her breast. Charlie was embarrassed, but Bass was more turned on than he had ever been in his life. He bent down and lapped it up, and then settled his lips over the taunt nipple and sucked gently. Charlie lifted off the bed, hand gripping Bass' hair as he sucked one breast and then the other, the feel of his warm breath and wet tongue driving her mad.

Bass released one breast and trailed his hand lightly across Charlie's stomach and down through her wet curls pressing a finger into her drenched folds.

"So wet for me," he whispered against her breast.

Bass continued his slow and torturous exploration while he moved down until Charlie could feel his breath on the inside of her upper thigh. Her whole body clenched in anticipation.

"Bass, please," Charlie panted, hands gripping the sheets. Bass had a fleeting memory of the last time they had made love and it had been he begging for the feel of her mouth around his cock, he had a sly smirk on his face when he blew gently on her sensitive, aching skin.

Charlie was tired of waiting; she grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled his face forward.

"God, you're impatient," Bass murmured against her just before he ran his tongue over her rock hard clit. Bass had to press her thighs back into the mattress and hold her still. He used that opportunity to spread her wide and devour her.

Charlie's whimpers were driving him wild. He looked up past her curls and locked eyes with her as she watched him at work at her clit. Her watching him, panting, with hand at her own breast, was the most erotic thing he had ever experienced. He'd be lucky if he didn't climax all over the sheets before he even made it inside her.

Bass continued to watch her as he pumped one finger and then another inside of her. He could feel her body tightening around him as she tensed up to come. He couldn't take his eyes off of her as she squeezed a nipple tight between her fingers and shattered all over his mouth and fingers.

Bass crawled back up Charlie's body as she lay spent on the mattress.

"Bass, I want to taste you," she whispered into his ear as she swirled her tongue around his lobe, she knew that that drove him crazy.

"Baby, I can't. Not this time. It's been too long and I want to feel you around me."

Charlie didn't argue, she just reached down between them and position him at her entrance. In one long thrust, Bass was buried deeply inside her. They both sighed with the pleasure of it.

Bass leaned down and placed a deep kiss on Charlie's lips, she could taste her own juices on his tongue and it made her press her mouth more firmly into his.

They had done this many times before, but this time was different. It wasn't just that Charlie's body was different, even though it was. Perhaps it was because they had finally come to terms with the true depth of feeling they had for each other. This wasn't just an opportunity to scratch an itch. This was the consummation of their commitment to one another and their new family, and it was amazing.

At first, Bass moved slowly in and out of her. At times, he would almost withdraw completely out only to slam into her again, but Charlie could feel the fine sheen of sweat across his back and chest and knew he was using every inch of his will power to not come. His rhythm started to increase and Charlie could feel her body preparing to climax once again. Her nails dug into the scars in his back, her muscles clinched around him, and she called his name. At that his rhythm faltered and he thrust deeply into her one last time, spilling himself into her exhausted body.

Bass rolled over and threw and arm over his eyes. That was quite easily the most amazing sexual encounter of his entire life and he was spent. He had everything he ever wanted: the love of an amazing woman and a perfectly healthy baby girl. He wondered if one day they would add a baby boy to their trio. He loved Connor, well he tolerated Connor (sometimes he was a dick), but, he would love to have more children. He started thinking about the trip to Willoughby the next day and he chuckled out loud and a huge smile spread across his face.

"What's so funny," Charlie asked sleepily as she snuggled into his side.

"I'm just picturing Rachel's face when we hand her Angela tomorrow." Bass said. Yes, tomorrow was going to be a good day.


	7. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

The trip to Willoughby from Gruene was thankfully uneventful. The only hint of a problem came as they were leaving Gruene. The guardsman had taken offense at Bass' tone when he demanded the return of his weapons at the city gate.

"Hey, dip shit! I'll be taking my weapons with me. Not that I would need them against your sorry ass. I could kill you with my bare hands, without breaking a sweat," Bass had shouted up to the nervous guardsman.

Charlie elbowed him in the side. How he had found out that the young man had been one of the men trying to woo Charlie with sweet notes and pretty flowers, she would never know.

"Bass, stop it," Charlie said, a slight edge to her voice. "You can't have your fun tormenting Rachel if they refuse to let us out of Gruene because you're being an ass."

She really didn't have to say anything though. The people of Gruene were ready to see Sebastian Monroe on the other side of their gates and Bass' weapons were tossed down with an unfriendly, "don't let the door hit you on the ass on your way out," from the guardsman.

Bass and Charlie pulled up in front of Grandpa Gene's house as dusk was settling across the sky. Charlie handed Angie to Bass and headed toward the front door.

"Just wait here a minute," she said.

Charlie quietly entered the front door and found her family sitting in the living room. Miles was seated by her mother, a glass of whiskey in his hand - no surprise there. Grandpa Gene was reading a book, and Rachel was writing in her journal. Still with that journal, Charlie thought. Some things never change.

Charlie cleared her throat, "Um, hello."

Three heads whipped in her direction and everyone got up at once.

"Charlie!" Rachel exclaimed, coming forward for an awkward hug.

"Hey kid. I was wondering when you were going to make it back," Miles said, dropping a peck on her forehead.

Grandpa Gene just grabbed her and pulled her into a warm embrace.

"Hey, guys. I am glad to see you, but there is someone I would like for you to meet." Charlie said, her nerves clearly heard in her voice.

Miles and Rachel exchanged a worried look. Bass was not going to take this well.

Charlie led her family out onto the porch and Miles breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the man who had his back to them at the wagon.

"I know you've been gone a while kid. But, how could you forget that we all know this prick," Miles smirked.

"Very funny Miles, but I wasn't talking about Bass."

Rachel didn't miss the fact that he was no longer Monroe. Something had definitely changed.

"Sebastian," Charlie said softly, and he turned around with a sleeping Angie resting peacefully in his arms.

"Wha…" Gene began.

"What the hell, Charlie," Rachel stammered, taking a subconscious step backward.

"You have got to be shitting me! I'll kill you, you bastard," that would be Miles.

Bass just stood there, a huge smile on his face, silently taking in their shocked faces for a moment.

"Miles, you aren't killing anybody," Charlie said as she brushed past him.

"I would like for you to meet Angela Claire…," Charlie trailed off when she saw how her family was staring at her.

"Monroe." Bass supplied, with a cocky smirk on his face.

Rachel was still backing up and looking at the ground, "No. No. No. We'll never get rid of him now," she muttered to no one in particular.

"Mom?" Charlie asked quietly, silently willing Rachel to at least look at her granddaughter.

"NO!" Rachel screamed and headed back into the house.

Charlie just stood there thinking, 'well, this is going about as good as I expected'. She was jarred back to reality when she heard a loud thud, followed by an "Ouch. What the hell, Miles?" Apparently, Miles had run across the yard and taken down Bass in an open field tackle that would have made an all-pro defensive back proud.

As Miles pounded Bass into the ground, the screen door opened back up and Rachel stormed back out of the house. She walked straight up to Charlie, took Angela from her, spun, and walked right back into the house.

"Mom...?" Charlie began, but Rachel cut her off. Charlie heard, "I can't deal with you right now Charlie," as the screen door once again slammed behind her.

Charlie looked at her grandfather, only to see him shrug and mutter something about "going into the house to have a look at my great granddaughter."

"Great, leave me to break up the two idiots," Charlie said under her breath, heading over to where Miles and Bass were still rolling around on the ground like two fifth graders fighting over a girl.

Charlie picked up a thick limb that was laying in the yard and gave Miles an attention getting whack across the back.

"Dammit Charlie," he huffed as he stood up.

Charlie turned and gave Bass a smack with the limb for good measure.

"Hey, I was just defending myself," Bass said, as he too got to his feet. Both men were breathing heavily.

Bass' left eye was swollen almost shut, his lip was bleeding, and he was bent over holding his ribs and trying to catch his breath. Miles hadn't fared any better. Both of his eyes would be black tomorrow and he was holding his head back and pinching the bridge of his nose to try and stop it from bleeding.

"You better not have broken my nose again, you dick," he said to Bass.

"Again?" Charlie asked no one in particular.

Bass looked at her out of his right eye and winced as he tried to smile, "Yea, I broke it when we were in the eighth grade. Miles thought it would be funny to hide behind the door and scare me. Only, when he jumped out my reflex was to punch. Caught him square in the nose. It was hilarious."

"Yeah, real funny," Miles muttered, still trying to stop his nose from bleeding.

"If you two could stop acting like complete ass hats, that would be great," Charlie said, looking back and forth from Miles to Bass like a mother breaking up a fight between her two rowdy sons.

Bass looked over at Miles, "Do you feel better? Now that you have that out of your system, I mean."

"No, I don't. Obviously you knocked her up," Charlie hit him with the limb again, "Ouch, gimmie that," Miles said as he snatched the limb from her hand.

"Anyway, obviously you got her pregnant - 'Is that better, Charlie?' – and then let her run off because you were too stupid to figure it out. Can you not count, you moron?"

"I can count just fine. I just had better things to do than math," Bass said, giving Charlie a 'you know what I mean' look as he said it.

"Oh, hell no," Miles said as he went after Bass again.

This time Charlie stepped in between them as they lunged toward each other, trying to put an end to their childish behavior; however, Miles reached around her and managed to punch Bass right in the ear.

"Holy shit, what it wrong with you, you asshole," Bass said, grabbing his now ringing ear.

"Enough!" Charlie said, with enough force to get their attention. "Miles, I am only going to say this once. Sebastian isn't your punching bag, and the reasons I left aren't any of your business; although, I am sure that the next time you two drink yourselves into oblivion, Captain Overshare will be happy to tell you all about it, and then you can pretend like you don't remember it the next day."

"Sebastian, huh? She not only demoted you, Captain, she also turned you into a puss," Miles threw the words at Bass, just to see if he would bite. He still had some aggression he wanted to work out.

Bass shrugged his shoulders, "Sebastian is sexy when she says it, and I would rather be her Captain than the world's General any day. Hey, where's Angie?" Bass asked, finally noticing that Charlie hadn't been holding their daughter while she beat them with a stick.

"Well look who suddenly remembered he has a daughter," Charlie said sarcastically. "Mom took her into the house, and I think it's time we go check on them. Mom looked more than a little shook up."

Charlie stayed between Miles and Bass as they made their way into the house. They found Rachel and Gene kneeling down in the floor over a very naked and angry Angie. Gene had his stethoscope at Angie's chest and Rachel was in the way counting fingers and toes.

Bass and Charlie each took a quick step forward, their faces white, "Is she ok?" "Is something wrong?" they both asked at the same time.

Gene calmed them with the wave of his hand, "She's fine. Perfect even. Guys, I am a doctor and I wanted to make sure my little great granddaughter was healthy, and she's just a beautiful little girl. Aren't you my little sweetie?" Gene said the last in a soothing voice aimed at Angie, who had finally stopped crying to coo her great grandpa.

Rachel, who finally seemed satisfied that Angie was healthy, re-dressed her granddaughter and stood up, rocking her in her arms.

"Mom," Charlie began, but Rachel held up her hand to silence her and looked back and forth between Bass and Charlie.

"I knew about you two, you know. You weren't hiding anything. Well, obviously you were hiding something," Rachel said, looking down at Angie. "Why did you run away Charlie? Why did you put yourself, and your baby, in danger? You had a doctor here, and your family. I know we haven't always seen eye to eye, but to leave without a word? Monroe was frantic. Miles and I half expected him to restart the Militia if only to have an army to look for you."

"Dammit, why didn't I think of that," Bass said under his breath. Rachel gave him a look that would have set him on fire – if she had been Aaron.

"Mom, I was afraid of how you would react knowing your granddaughter is Sebastian's daughter."

"Charlie, I am only going to say this once and then we will never talk about it again. I had to hate Bass for everything that happened, because if I didn't hate him, the only person I would have had left to hate would have been me. I set this whole mess into motion the day I traded the nanotech for Danny's life. It was entirely my fault. All of it. But I was too prideful to admit it. Yes, Bass gave the orders that eventually led to Ben and Danny's death, but I gave away the power to turn off the lights in the first place. I have more blood on my hands than Miles and Bass together. I love you. I forgave Miles. I can tolerate Bass. And one day I may find peace with myself."

You could have heard a pin drop in the house.

Bass was the first one to speak, "You know she's taking all of the fun out of this, right?" Charlie glared at him and Miles slapped him in the back of the head.

Rachel wasn't about to let Bass have the last word, so she gave him one of her coldest stares and said, "I know you wanted to rub my face in this, and bask in my misery, But, I have taken so many lives I deserve to enjoy this new life. So, tough shit."

"Charlie, how old is this sweet baby? Dad and I guessed just a few weeks," and that was Rachel's cue for everyone to move on. She had said all she was going to say and that was that. Take it or leave it. She really didn't care.

Charlie looked quickly from Bass, to Miles, to her grandpa. Was that really it? No fit? No histrionics? No knives, swords, or guns? Wow, that had gone way better than she imagined.

"She was six weeks old yesterday," Charlie said, taking a step toward her mother. She hadn't really thought about it before now but maybe Angela would be the key. Maybe she was the one who would heal old wounds and smooth old scars. That was a lot to expect from a baby. But hell, she was half Matheson, half Monroe. She would probably conquer the entire planet one day.

Later that evening:

Miles and Rachel sat out on the porch long after everyone had gone to bed, sharing an old bottle of whiskey.

"So, are you ever going to tell him?" Rachel asked, taking a sip from her glass.

"What?" Miles asked, looking at her over the rim of his own drink. "You think I should tell Bass that we heard him ride up that night and staged our little argument for him to overhear so he would go get our girl and bring her home?"

"You know that's what I mean," Rachel shot back.

"Well, we couldn't just tell him outright. That would have broken Charlie's trust, and we both agreed we would never do that again. Besides, why should we tell him? We got what we wanted and a bonus in Angie. I say we let it slide. Better yet, I will make a deal with you. The day you tell me that's my _granddaughter_ up there sleeping beside my best friend and my _daughter_, is the day I tell Bass that we helped him out."

"You know," Rachel gasped, as she choked on her whiskey.

Miles chuckled, "Please, unlike Bass, I can count."

Bass stood just inside the door with a look of utter shock on his face. Who knew that a trip downstairs for a glass of water would be so enlightening? Bass released a long breath that he hadn't even been aware he was holding, and for the first time since he got the call that his family had been killed in that car crash all those years ago, Sebastian Monroe was a peace. He had his best friend back and was forging a truce with Rachel. Charlotte really had chased the monster away. Bass turned around and headed back up the stairs to his family with a cocky smile on his face. He hoped Charlie was still awake, because he had every intention of spending the rest of the night thanking her.


End file.
